


Pickle Envy

by tommygirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ficlet, Jealousy, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 16:52:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommygirl/pseuds/tommygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam hates pickles, but he really hates girls who want to make out with his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pickle Envy

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday ficlet for obeetaybee, who asked for Sam/Dean and pickles.

“You’re disgusting, you know that?” Sam stated as he watched his brother shove an entire pickle into his mouth, not caring that the juice was running down his chin. Dean smiled while he chewed. Sam huffed and replied, “Seriously, man, how can you eat that shit?”

“Pickles are one of god’s finest inventions.”

“You don’t believe in God, Dean.”

“Well, if I did…”

“Pickles are disgusting. They reek and taste foul.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m not the one who ate an entire jar of pickles and spent the night sick.”

“I was seven!”

“And ever since then you’ve had pickle issues,” Dean replied. He reached across the table and grabbed the pickle off Sam’s plate, shoving it into his mouth with a smile. Between bites he said, “Don’t hate the pickle because you’re an idiot.”

“Don’t even try to kiss me until you’ve brushed your teeth.”

“Don’t tempt me, Sam.”

“I’ll kill you, Dean. _Kill. You_ ,” Sam replied. He pushed the food on his plate around with a fork.

“Again, I’m not going to suffer because you have a weird phobia of pickles,” Dean replied.

“I don’t think there is anyone who would want to kiss you right now, pickle breath.”

Dean arched his eyebrows and said, “Care to wager on that?”

“What?”

Dean nodded to the two girls in the corner who kept looking over at them and giggling. Sam glared at Dean and said, “I hate you.”

“So that’s a ‘no’ on that?”

“Do what you want?”

“You’re worse than a chick.”

“I said…”

“You have pickle envy. Don’t want me sharing my pickle juice with anyone else.”

“That’s the most disturbing and idiotic thing you’ve ever said. And this is _you_ we’re talking about,” Sam countered. Sam frowned, furrowing his brow, and trying very hard not to reach out and pin his brother to his chair. He hated that his brother had this sort of control over him, that Dean could make him feel jealous and ridiculous at any given moment. And it really pissed him off that those girls would probably make out with Dean, pickle-breath and all.

“So the bet’s on? Because that red head has been eyeing me since we got here.”

Dean stood up and Sam dropped his fork and folded his arms, almost daring his brother to go without saying it because he wasn’t a complete masochist, no matter what Dean said, and he wasn’t about to provide Dean with an open-invitation to suck face with someone else.

Dean muttered something under his breath and sat back down. Sam couldn’t help but smile and Dean’s gaze turned slightly softer and he grinned back.

Sam knew he shouldn’t do it, but he leaned across the table, cupped the back of Dean’s neck with his hand and brushed his lips against Dean’s, sliding his tongue in for a quick taste. He grimaced as he pulled back and said, “Still disgusting.”

“Wow, Sammy. You must really love me, despite my evil pickle breath.”

Sam kicked Dean under the table and said, “You’re not so bad.”

“Keep comments like that coming, Sam, and I might start crying,” Dean replied. He licked his fingers, taking his time when he caught Sam watching him intently, before wiping the back of his hand across his face and dropping his napkin on the table. He stood up again, and off the confused look on Sam’s face, added, “The quicker you finish eating your lunch, the quicker I can show you all the ways I think you’re not so bad either.”

Sam tried to act unfazed by his brother’s comment, but all the blood was rushing to his cock as he thought about the taste of Dean, pickle juice and all. Sam pushed his plate away from him, stood up, and said, “We just need to get the check.”

“Slut,” Dean muttered with a grin before turning to walk toward the cash register.

Sam grabbed Dean by the wrist and pulled him against his chest. He leaned down and kissed Dean, nipping at his bottom lip, his hands cupping Dean’s face and making damn sure everyone knew who Dean belonged to. When they were both out of air, Sam pulled back, licked his lip, and said, “Maybe pickles aren’t so bad after all.”

Dean stared at him for a second, looking completely debauched, and said, “Christ Sammy.”

“Yeah, hurry up. I’ll be in the car,” Sam called over his shoulder as he headed out of the diner. Disgusting or not, Dean was his and he wouldn’t have changed that for anything.

_{Fin}_

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End file.
